


Murder at Meadowside

by dragonwings948



Series: A Night on Darillium [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Mentioned Clara Oswin Oswald, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Regency, Regency Romance, Repressed Memories, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24411280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwings948/pseuds/dragonwings948
Summary: When the Doctor and River take a trip to Bath in the Regency era, they're expecting a calm, quiet holiday. However, they soon get caught up in a murder, and questions abound as everything seems to revolve around a man named Mr. Townsley and his estate Meadowside.
Relationships: The Doctor/River Song, Twelfth Doctor & River Song, Twelfth Doctor/River Song
Series: A Night on Darillium [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563853
Comments: 36
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is!!!!
> 
> Sorry this has taken so long! But the story is almost completely finished, so I should be able to post one chapter a week. This is by far the longest Darillium story I've written so far! The first chapter is very fluffy/angsty but the rest of the story is very meaty, so enjoy this while it lasts! XD
> 
> I will say that this story has been especially fun for me to do because 1) I've been to Bath so I can actually picture it and 2) one of my current jobs is ghostwriting Regency romance stories, so I'm really familiar with the era! I hope you all have as much fun reading it as I've had writing it! Enjoy! :D

When River stepped into the console room, the first thing she saw was a top hat.

The Doctor’s back was to her, but she could see that in addition to that ridiculous thing on his head, he had donned a longer black coat.

“What on earth are you wearing?”

The Doctor spun around and spread his arms with a grin. “I’m dressing like the locals! I thought you would approve.”

River made a show of looking him over as she closed the distance between them. He really did look dashing with the waistcoat and all, but he just had to go and ruin it with the hat.

“Oh, I do approve,” she said as she reached him, running her hands over his waistcoat to prove the point. When his eyes widened in something akin to panic, River changed tactics and lifted the hat off his head, smiling at the sight of his grey curls. She raised herself on her toes to place a soft kiss on his lips. “I approve of everything but the hat,” she finished as she pulled away.

The Doctor frowned and snatched the hat back, placing it firmly on his head. “You’ve never liked my hats.”

“No; they make you look ridiculous.” She pointedly frowned at the offensive accessory.

The Doctor’s eyes traveled over her form. “Your dress is...nice?” he tried with an attempt at a charming smile.

River had decided on a simple outfit: a dark green patterned dress with black gloves. Her hair, however, was more complex, pinned up with her curls cascading down her neck. She decided to take the compliment, as it was as good as she would get from him.

“Thank you,” she said, only just refraining from adding an eye roll.

The Doctor seemed not to notice her note of sarcasm as he rushed toward the doors. He stopped just in front of them and held out his arm. “Shall we?”

River took his arm and smiled up at him. They walked out the doors and found themselves in a run-down alley in the afternoon, though the sounds of the city were close by.

“What year is it?” River asked.

“1803,” the Doctor replied, a little less enthusiastically than she had expected. She tried to meet his gaze, but he stared pensively ahead as they strolled into the main part of the city.

“Isn’t Jane Austen living here now?”

The Doctor’s expression clouded over; the exact opposite effect that River had intended. A faraway look came into his eyes, one which River was starting to become familiar with. It meant that he was trying to grasp at memories that weren’t there. She couldn’t help but feel a flare of irritation towards the woman who could steal the Doctor’s attention and good humour at any given moment, even though he didn’t remember her.

“I’m starting to wonder if I should be jealous of Clara,” River muttered.

The Doctor cast a dangerous look her way, and she instantly regretted the thoughtless jab.

“Don’t,” he said harshly. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but instead he let his eyebrows do the talking and frowned tremendously.

They went sightseeing around the town, and the Doctor cooled off as River let him explain about anything and everything they saw. As they wandered through the streets, they picked up on the talk of the town: a private ball held by a prestigious Mr. Townsley that was taking place the following evening.

“Do you want to go?” the Doctor asked after they overheard two girls giggling about their outfits while picking out some new ribbons.

River wasn’t sure she’d ever been to a ball with the Doctor without there being some sort of world-saving motive; it was definitely an inviting thought.

“Only if you dance properly instead of waving your arms about like a maniac.”

A smile twitched at the Doctor’s lips. “We’ll stay, then.”

As the day wore on they decided to split up. River went back to the TARDIS to get some essentials and decide on her outfit for the ball, while the Doctor found them somewhere to stay. It only took a little over an hour before the Doctor walked into the console room with a grin.

“Good news! We have an apartment.” He tossed River the key and she caught it. She stared down at the object, not quite understanding.

“An entire apartment?”

“Yeah. That’s what all the rich people are doing nowadays: renting apartments instead of staying in the guest houses.”

River frowned at him. “Everything else was full, wasn’t it?”

The Doctor sighed, deflated. “Everything else was full. I might have misused the psychic paper a bit, but not to worry. King George owes me a favour, so I’ll make sure they get paid.”

River shook her head with a smile. “I’ve got everything packed; let’s go see our apartment.”

It was twilight when they walked into their rooms, fully furnished and rather clean. River removed her gloves as soon as they were inside, already tired of how restricting they were. The Doctor shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto a sofa in the sitting room, then removed his top hat and placed it on a nearby chair.

It was uncomfortably quiet for a minute, and River knew what she had to do. She sighed. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier; I didn’t really mean it.”

“I know.” The Doctor took off his gloves as well and tossed them with the rest of his discarded outerwear. He distinctly avoided her gaze. “I—”

Before he could continue, there was a knock at the door. A young man stepped through, a boy probably still in his teens, with curly dark hair. His eyes widened and he looked mortified as he saw the piled items of clothing the Doctor had carelessly thrown about. The boy immediately gathered the items up in his arms and started neatly laying them out instead.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived, sir.” His panicked eyes swept around the room, as if searching for something else he could do to make up for it. “Mr. Davis needed my help before he released me to you, but now I’m here to serve you, sir.” He turned to River. “Mr. Davis sends his apologies that he doesn’t have any female servants to spare, but it is a bit unusual for someone renting an apartment to not bring any servants.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “Not that I think you are unusual in any way—”

“It’s perfectly fine,” River cut in. She glanced at the Doctor; he hadn’t told her about a servant.

The Doctor didn’t meet her eyes, as he was too busy watching the boy. “What’s your name?”

“Price, sir.”

“First name,” the Doctor insisted.

The boy blinked. “James, sir,” he said hesitantly.

“Lovely name, James! Do you mind if I call you James?”

Poor James seemed completely taken aback at the thought. “I-I suppose not, sir,” he stammered.

“And there’s no need to call me ‘sir;’ ‘Doctor’ will do just fine.”

At the completely lost look on James’ face, River decided to step in. “You can call us whatever makes you comfortable,” she told him, shooting a glare at the Doctor. “I don’t suppose you could bring us up some tea?”

James looked infinitely relieved at being given a task to perform. “Oh, yes, my lady, of course.”

“No rush,” the Doctor added. He tossed a coin in James’ direction, and the boy fumbled with it for a moment before clasping it in his hands. “And bring three cups.”

James met the Doctor’s eyes. The Doctor nodded encouragingly and James pocketed the coin slowly, as if afraid that the Doctor would change his mind. “Yes, sir. I’ll be back in a moment.” He bowed and exited the room.

“A servant?” River asked as soon as the door closed.

The Doctor fell into the nearest chair and sighed, running a hand over his face. “I couldn’t get around it; Mr. Davis was starting to get suspicious when I told him we didn’t have any servants, so I had to make up a story about how they all caught the flu at the same time. When he offered one of his own servants for our use, I couldn’t refuse.”

“The poor boy looked scared out of his wits.”

The Doctor hummed in agreement, steepling his fingers to support his chin. River sat next to him, perching on the edge of a sofa. “You were going to say something before he came in,” she prompted him.

His shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this—the memory wipe,” he clarified, meeting her eyes for only a moment. “It was supposed to be complete. It wasn’t supposed to leave the pain.” He pressed his lips together like he was debating on whether or not to say more. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I lost my memories; I haven’t been keeping track. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t forget. I can’t... _heal.”_ The last word came out with a sigh, his voice trembling.

River stared at him, struck by the sudden flood of emotions and torn between wanting to comfort him and give him space. A thought formed in her mind but she paused, knowing the Doctor wouldn’t like it.

“What if,” she began softly, “the memory wipe worked fine, but you’re the one resisting it?”

The Doctor’s head snapped up, his incredulity conveyed in a single look.

“What if you think that the only way to hold on to Clara is by holding onto the pain she caused?”

His eyes widened even more, like he had never even considered it. River continued:

“If she truly was your best friend, then I know she didn’t want this for you. She took your memories so you could be free of the pain, not be haunted by it every day.” River stood and framed his face with her hands. “Doctor, you need to let go and forgive yourself.”

His blue eyes became glassy. “I don’t want to forget her,” he protested in a gruff voice that River knew was trying to mask the emotion he was really feeling.

River held his gaze as she stroked his sideburns. “If she really means that much to you, then you won’t. The things she did—the ways she changed you—they’ll remain in your hearts no matter what. At least let me help you,” she insisted. “You don’t have to suffer alone anymore.”

The Doctor’s eyes closed. His forehead was a mass of wrinkles as he breathed out a long sigh. His troubled emotions were so loud that River could almost hear them; and then she realised, with the way her hands were placed on either side of his head, that she actually could. She could feel the war waging inside him and feel his heartbreak as if it were her own.

River gasped with the force of it and let go of him, falling back onto the sofa. The Doctor blinked at her. River could barely focus as her head spun.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, “I didn’t mean to…”

The Doctor shifted over to the sofa and sat next to her. He placed a comforting hand on her back. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

River shook her head. “It was just...overwhelming.” She swallowed. “How do you live with it?”

“Two hearts, and a lot of moving on. Like I’m doing now.” He looked into her eyes steadily. “You’re right, River. I need to let go of my guilt and pain; but I might need your help sometimes.”

River managed a chuckle. “Admitting you need help? That’s new.”

There was a soft knock on the door. The Doctor jumped to his feet and pulled River with him just as James entered with the tea tray.

James seemed a little more at ease as he entered this time; he even smiled as he walked in and set the tray on a table with four chairs.

“Will you require my assistance with the tea?” James asked.

“Yes,” said the Doctor as he plopped down into one of the chairs with very little grace. “I need you to sit in that chair, stop worrying, and have tea with us.”

River smiled. She had already guessed who the Doctor had reserved the third cup for. James, however, did not look as pleased. His mouth actually dropped open.

“What he means to say,” River added in a softer tone, “is that we would like for you to have tea with us if you want to.” She sat down next to the Doctor and watched as James clearly struggled with what to say.

“It’s…I’ve never…” He huffed, looking down at the ground like he would find the answer there.

“What do you _want_ to do?” the Doctor asked. “All tradition and propriety aside.”

James looked into River’s eyes, then the Doctor’s, like he was waiting for some sort of trick to be unveiled. “I…I suppose I could stay for a few minutes, if you’re really asking me to.”

“We are,” the Doctor said, reaching for the teapot.

James beat him to it and grabbed the teapot first. “Please allow me, sir. It’s the least I can do.” He poured the tea and sat delicately on the edge of his chair, completely straight-backed, like he was ready to jump up and perform his duties at any moment. River pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the absurd sight.

“So, James,” the Doctor began after taking a sip of his tea, “what can you tell us about the ball tomorrow?”

James smiled. “It’s the talk of the town, sir. Even those of us who are downstairs discuss it, and we won’t even be there.”

“What’s so special about it?” River asked. Immediately realising how odd a question it was from someone who was supposed to be invited to the ball, she added: “Being from out of town, I confess that we don’t know Mr. Townsley very well.”

James didn’t seem to find the question suspicious at all. “It’s said Mr. Townsley has spared no expense. He’s had a great monument built on his property, Meadowside, and it’s said he’s going to unveil it at the ball tomorrow.” He laughed a little. “But I’m sure that’s why you’re going, of course.”

“Of course,” River agreed, intrigued by this monument. She wondered if it had any kind of historical significance, but her early 19th century Earth history was a bit rough. She looked to the Doctor, wondering if he’d ask James anything else about Mr. Townsley, but instead he started asking James personal questions about what he liked to do on his days off. James started out hesitant, but it didn’t take him long to ease into the conversation. River realised he probably didn’t have anyone to really talk to on a daily basis.

“I like to keep busy, sir,” James explained. “I stay up late most nights, finishing chores and doing extra if I can.” A small crease appeared between his eyebrows and his easygoing manner began to fade again.

“Having trouble sleeping?” the Doctor asked.

James frowned. He tapped his foot on the ground in time with the seconds of silence that ticked by. “Sometimes I have…dreams.”

“What kind?” River asked, picking up on his distress. “Nightmares?”

“I’d rather not say. But they do trouble me, yes; so I try to sleep as little as possible.”

Now that River looked, she could see that he was very good at hiding how weary he really was.

“How long has this been going on?” the Doctor asked.

James shrugged. “A few months. I’ve grown accustomed to it by now; I’m sure they can’t last forever. One day they’ll go away.”

The conversation turned to pleasanter things then. The Doctor told stories—though he remained within the bounds of things James would understand—and the boy was soon entranced. Time ticked by, and River guessed it was at least an hour before James recovered himself and claimed he had some duties to attend to.

“Thank you,” he said as he stood. “You are unlike anyone I have ever met.”

“We get that quite a lot,” River said with a smile. “Try to get some sleep tonight.”

“Doctor’s orders,” the Doctor added.

James nodded with a smile as he collected the tea things. “Goodnight, sir; my lady.” He bowed to them both, and then left the room.

River looked at the Doctor. He frowned, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Thinking you might be able to help with his nightmares?”

The Doctor hummed. “It depends on what’s causing them—trauma, memories, medical condition, a slightly telepathic mind…” He stretched his arms in front of him. “A mystery for tomorrow. But for now, I could use a bit of a nap.”

“Again?” River raised an eyebrow. “I think my ‘human’ is rubbing off on you.”

“Or maybe, like James, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten any real sleep.”

River remembered how she had woken him from his dream the night before; she didn’t recall him going back to sleep afterwards.

“We’ll switch places for once, then,” River said. “I’m still rested from last night.” And besides, she had some things she wanted to write down in her new diary.

River changed into a Regency-era nightgown she’d brought from the TARDIS and got ready for the night. She thanked the universe for small mercies as she brushed her teeth—one of the perks of being a time traveller was being able to keep up dental hygiene in eras that had little to none.

She entered the bedroom to find the Doctor already in bed, having shed his waistcoat and shoes. River found herself wondering if that was really what he normally wore to sleep, or if he was still that shy around her.

“Comfortable?” she asked as she went to a vanity and began pulling pins from her hair. When the Doctor didn’t respond she sought his eyes in the mirror and caught him watching her intently with something different in his eyes. But he looked away quickly and bounced on the mattress, muttering:

“Adequate for the times.”

River refrained from asking him what he had been thinking because she knew he wouldn’t tell her. But she had seen it, in the second she had read his eyes: admiration. It was sweet, but she also wished that he wasn’t so scared of saying it out loud. Would it really kill him to say, just once, that he thought she was beautiful? That he loved her?

River shook her head. That wasn’t the Doctor. He had shown her what he felt time and time again, and as the saying went: his actions spoke louder than his words.

Still, was it wrong for a wife to want to hear that she was admired by her husband?

River let her hair spill down her back and ran her hands through it to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. Once she had grabbed her diary and a candle, she got into bed beside the Doctor. His eyes were already closed, but River gently caressed his cheek and one of his eyes popped open.

“Goodnight, my love.”

A warm smile lit up his face. “Goodnight, River.”

River sat up and opened her diary. She read through the first entry she had written the night before and felt her cheeks burn. She glanced over at the Doctor, halfway expecting him to be reading over her shoulder, but instead his eyes were still closed. However, deep lines on his forehead told of stress.

He could never truly rest, could he?

River transferred her diary to her other hand and reached out to immerse her fingers in the Doctor’s hair. She swept her hand gently through his curls and inched closer to him so she wouldn’t have to reach so far.

The Doctor sighed through his nose, his tension relaxing. River thought she even heard a contented hum and knew he wasn’t fully asleep yet.

She began writing in her diary, and though holding the book in place and writing with the same hand proved a bit of a challenge, she kept her other hand on the Doctor’s head. Sure enough, within several minutes, she heard his breathing even out.

River took a brief look at him, but ended up staring. What a rare thing it was to see the Doctor truly, naturally asleep. She smiled as she realised she was most likely one of very few people in the universe who had witnessed the sight.

River continued writing. The candle beside her grew shorter and shorter as time passed. Out of nowhere, River felt a brush of the Doctor’s mind against hers. In her surprise she dropped her pen and it clattered to the floor. Holding her breath, River watched the Doctor. He didn’t stir, but she noticed that her hand in his hair had slipped a bit to frame the side of his face.

She felt his consciousness there again, though stronger now that she was aware of it. Broken thoughts pushed their way into River’s head: she caught snippets of an ancient, sad memory. It dragged River in before she really knew what was happening.

Suddenly, River found herself on a hard mattress, staring up at a shadowy face. The smells of mould, dust, and earth overwhelmed her senses, and she realised she was crying.

 _Not me,_ she thought, regaining some control over herself. _This is the Doctor’s dream._

The stranger above the Doctor swept their hand through his hair. By the sound of the quiet, shuddering sobs, the Doctor was only a little boy. River realised that the dream must have been triggered by her own caresses; she’d had no idea how much the gesture had meant to him.

Words came into focus, uttered by an indistinct voice that could have belonged to anyone:

“...fear doesn’t have to make you cruel or cowardly. Fear can make you kind…”

The voice faded away and River felt the Doctor’s crippling fear, sadness, and loneliness. She caught a flash of a different memory: the Doctor’s fist cracking into a wall of crystal. The pain resounded through River’s entire being and echoed on forever as he punched the wall again, and again, and again…

River recovered once again and separated herself from the feelings, taking the mental equivalent of a deep breath.

The stranger’s voice from the Doctor’s dream concluded: “Fear makes companions of us all.”

Frustration and fear overwhelmed the dream. Memories flew by too quickly for River to really catch any of them until one came to the forefront of the Doctor’s mind.

The barn was gone. Instead, she--or, actually, the Doctor--was surrounded by endless shelves of books. They blurred past as the Doctor sprinted, clutching something tightly in his hand like the entire universe depended on it. River looked down to see what it was--

But the whole image blew away as if by some powerful wind, and River snapped back to reality where a voice was calling her name and steely blue eyes flashed fire.

_Uh-oh._

“What did you do?” the Doctor growled, gripping her arms tightly. He was sitting up in front of her, wide awake and angrier than she had ever seen him before in this body.

River found herself speechless under that stare that could topple empires. Her lips formed an apology but her head began to throb as she remembered punching the wall. The barn. _Fear._

A painful gasp came from her mouth instead and she put a hand to her head. Then there was the library; what was so important about the library?

“River?” His voice softened and his hold on her slackened.

“I’ve…” River’s voice trembled and she inhaled a breath to steady herself. “I’ve never been inside your head like that before.”

“It’s dangerous,” he chided, letting go of her. “When I’m asleep, I can’t control what you see.”

River nodded, unable to meet his eyes. Her head was still spinning and she struggled to put her thoughts in order.

“It wasn’t...intentional, really.” She glanced up at him and saw that the fire had drained from his eyes. She held his gaze, silently asking for forgiveness. “It was like something was drawing me in.” River began to realise just how much she had intruded on his memories and emotions. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you like that.”

The Doctor’s expression fell slack and he looked so weary for a moment. He frowned, eyebrows knitting together. “It’s possible that, er…” He looked away from her. “...my mind may be telepathically starved. A bit.”

River raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m meant to live with other telepaths,” he explained. “It’s like how humans can be starved of touch; they’re meant to hug and hold hands, brush shoulders and link arms. Without touch, there’s something missing. It’s the same way with me--us,” he amended. “Our minds are meant to be around other time lords, to feel their emotions and brush against the presence of their minds. We’ve both gone so long without that interaction that our minds are reaching out towards each other without us even being aware of it.”

River was floored by the fact that he could give such a speech when he had been fast asleep only a minute ago--but that was the Doctor.

“In which case,” he continued with a sigh, his soft eyes a far cry from the terror they’d invoked only seconds ago, “I’m the one who should be sorry. It wasn’t really your fault.” Sorrow made his expression fall. “The pain I feel--I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. I’m sorry you had to see it.” He reached toward her head. “Does it still hurt?”

River grabbed his hand, halting his progress, and lowered it to the space between them.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. I want to remember.” She shook her head, looking down at their joint hands. “I’ve always known about the pain you carried, but to feel it was…” She couldn’t find the right words.

The Doctor’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. He lifted his hand again and gently brushed River’s hair back from her cheek. “Let me show you something else.” He raised his eyebrows, asking permission. River nodded. His fingertips applied gentle pressure to her temple and their minds linked again.

Several memories flowed into her mind in rapid succession; memories she knew from a different point of view. Asgard, Manhattan, 1969, Demon’s Run, marriage, running, kissing, embraces, laughter, smiles… So many memories that he had with her. And while River could sense an undercurrent of dread as he wondered how much time they had left, the more overwhelming feelings were warm and pleasant.

“That’s how I carry the pain,” the Doctor said.

River’s heart swelled, struck by how strong his feelings were, how long he had loved her. His words were uttered with such sincerity that she couldn’t doubt them. She knew she wasn’t the only one to ease his suffering; it was what everyone who loved the Doctor did. But right now, in this time when he had lost and suffered so much, she was the one to chase away the darkness. She sensed this--and so much more that couldn’t be put into words--from what he poured into her mind.

As the memories faded, she felt that he was asking if he was forgiven. He still felt guilty about burdening her with his pain and being angry with her.

River laughed, having entirely forgotten that he had been angry at all. She kissed his lips tenderly. “As you said once,” she murmured, still so close that she could feel his breath, “always and completely.” With the telepathic link still open, she directed thoughts towards him: that she was more than willing to share his burden, to constantly help him remember who he was.

The Doctor’s lips against hers cut off all coherent thought for a moment--but then she smiled, impressed by the insistence of the kiss. He immediately kissed her again, curving into her and trying to press her closer, as if proving the point. With a chuckle, River realised he could still sense her thoughts. Not that she really minded, especially if it made him a more willing kisser.

The Doctor pulled away from her with a smile, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. But in his expression was something like pure love and happiness, so overwhelming that River grabbed his lapels and pulled their lips back together. The Doctor seemed only too willing to continue snogging her, testing her ability to breathe--curse his respiratory bypass.

She felt him start to retreat so he could reply to the thought--probably to remind her that she could use respiratory bypass too if she only took the time to practice--but River tangled her fingers in his hair and kept him glued to her, mentally insisting that she _was_ practicing, at this very moment.

That was when a scream pierced the night.

They mutually drew away from each other, and River was instantly distracted by the sight of the Doctor’s wide-eyed stare and the sound of his laboured breaths. His fingers dug into her waist like he was very seriously considering not letting go.

But in the next breath the moment was over. The Doctor leapt out of bed, wiping his sleeve across his mouth. He pointed past River and said, his voice slightly breathless: “Candle.”

River jumped to her feet and grabbed the now tiny candle on its stand. Another scream sounded, this one a little more faint, and River rushed just behind the Doctor as they ran out of their apartment.

River couldn’t help but shake her head. “There’s always something with you, isn’t there?”


	2. Chapter 2

_That was when a scream pierced the night._

_They mutually drew away from each other, and River was instantly distracted by the sight of the Doctor’s wide-eyed stare and the sound of his laboured breaths. His fingers dug into her waist like he was very seriously considering not letting go._

_But in the next breath the moment was over. The Doctor leapt out of bed, wiping his sleeve across his mouth. He pointed past River and said, his voice slightly breathless: “Candle.”_

_River jumped to her feet and grabbed the now tiny candle on its stand. Another scream sounded, this one a little more faint, and River rushed just behind the Doctor as they ran out of their apartment._

_River couldn’t help but shake her head. “There’s always something with you, isn’t there?”_

* * *

The Doctor thundered down flights of stairs, hearing River’s footsteps on his heels. Doors open and shut all over the building. Others joined the Doctor as he headed toward the source of the scream, but none could keep up except River.

He reached an open door. The sound of a girl crying carried out into the hall, and instinct (as well as sharpened senses) told the Doctor that this was where the scream had come from.

A crowd of people blocked the entrance into the room. The Doctor pushed through, ignoring the indignant exclamations that followed, until he came to the body of an old woman lying still on the ground. He reached out to take her wrist but a forceful hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“The constables have already been called,” the broad, mustachioed man said. “We should wait for them.”

“I’m a doctor,” the Doctor shot back, shrugging off the man’s hand. “I need to make sure she’s really dead.”

The crying started up again from somewhere within the crowd of people but the Doctor ignored it. He held the woman’s wrist. No pulse. He swept his eyes over her quickly but there was nothing obvious to tell what had killed her.

“No trauma,” River said, her voice right beside him. “Heart attack?”

The Doctor blinked. He hadn’t even realised she’d stayed by his side. “Most likely.” And yet...there was something that didn’t feel quite right. Something…

The sound of sobbing derailed his train of thought. He finally identified the crying girl, a young woman who was on her knees across from the Doctor, staring down at the body in despair.

“Take the crying girl,” the Doctor said in an undertone. “I can’t think when people are crying.”

He felt, rather than saw, River’s eye roll.

“What, and let you do all the investigating without me?”

The Doctor looked over at her. “Once she stops crying, you can talk to her. Find out who this woman was, why she was here.”

River raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t think it was a heart attack?”

“I don’t know, because I can’t think, because that girl won’t stop crying.”

River’s eyes narrowed. The Doctor could tell he was getting nowhere.

“She needs help,” he said gently. “I can’t do everything at once.”

Finally River stood, spreading her arms. “All you had to do was ask nicely.” She went over to the girl, helped her stand, and led her out of the room.

The Doctor looked up. A small audience of nosy residents stood silently as if waiting for him to perform a magic trick.

“I need everyone out of this room. There’s nothing more to see, and the constables will be here soon.”

No one moved.

The Doctor grit his teeth at the stupidity of the human race and summoned up a yell. But before he got out even one syllable, another voice spoke.

“Dr. Smith is here in service to the King, and you would ignore him?”

A couple of people stirred at that.

“The constables are just down the road, and they will not be as kind when asking everyone to clear the room. Please go back to your apartments, and everything will be explained in the morning.”

The crowd dispersed in whispers and rumors. Doors shut all throughout the building until only one other person was left next to the Doctor and the dead woman.

“James,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Good lad.”

But his words seemed to make no impression. James looked on the body in horror, his form visibly trembling. His breaths shuddered.

“Never seen a dead body before?” the Doctor asked.

“N-no sir.”

The Doctor pointed at him as he turned back to the body. “What did I say about the ‘sir’s?’”

“Please forgive me.” There was a long silence. “I will be going now…”

The Doctor glanced at the terrified servant boy. “No. I want you to stay, if you’re feeling up to it.”

James seemed to hesitate, but the Doctor patted the space beside him. After a moment, the boy knelt on the floor at the Doctor’s side. “If you insist. I won’t sleep, anyway.”

The Doctor looked into James’ terrified eyes. “Are you scared? It’s not a bad thing,” he added quickly.

“Not...scared,” James said, seeming to recover a little, though his eyes never strayed from the woman’s body. “I will be all right.”

“Good…” the Doctor mumbled, once again distracted by the feeling of something not quite right. He touched a hand to the side of the woman’s head, initiating a telepathic link. Though the brain was dead, something lingered. Something that didn’t belong there.

The Doctor sighed as he took his hand away. “What are you?” he murmured to himself.

“What do you think?” James asked. “It’s obvious that she wasn’t murdered.”

“Oh, really? Just because you don’t see anything wrong, it doesn’t mean there isn’t anything wrong. What about poison?”

James’ eyes widened with fear. “You _do_ think she was murdered?”

“It’s just a theory.”

Heavy footsteps made their way into the room. The Doctor looked up to see three constables being led by Mr. Davis, the owner of the apartments. The latter’s expression turned into a thunderstorm when he laid eyes on James.

“Price, what on earth are you doing here? Go back to your quarters at once!”

“No,” the Doctor said, shooting to his feet and facing the man. “I need him to act as my assistant.”

“Assistant?” one of the constables asked.

The Doctor patted himself down, looking for the psychic paper before he realised it was in his coat, which was upstairs. “I’m a doctor,” he said instead. “Doctor John Smith.”

“It is true, sir,” said Mr. Davis. “He’s sent from King George himself.”

The constable frowned. “Well, from the King or not, we need to remove this body.” The other two took the cue and bent down beside the old woman, laying a stretcher on the ground beside her.

“Let me go with you,” the Doctor said, stepping to the side. “I’ll perform the autopsy.”

The two constables walked past with the body. The remaining constable stared him down. “Forgive me, sir, but the King is not in the habit of sending doctors to interfere with the goings on of our town.”

Mr. Davis backed away. James looked like he didn’t believe his ears. By the man’s speech, the Doctor knew he didn’t believe him. A constable in 1803 would never talk to a distinguished doctor that way and get away with it.

Time to act the part, then.

“You dare insult me?” The Doctor lowered his voice to a growl and used his height to his advantage as he towered over the man. “You’re right—I’m not here on business. I’m trying to help you solve a murder. And if the King hears that you—” He pointed at the man’s chest and raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“Brommel, sir,” the man squeaked.

“If he hears that you, Brommel, have stopped me from doing that,” the Doctor continued, “then there will be hell to pay!”

Brommel’s mouth hung open. “Of—of course, my lord. We will expect you in the morning to perform the autopsy.”

The Doctor nodded. “Good. And I don’t want anyone else there, understand? Just me and James. I can’t work with people around.”

“Just as you say.” Brommel stared at him as if waiting for more instructions.

“You can go now,” the Doctor said, waving a hand.

The constable turned and followed the path of his comrades. Mr. Davis lingered behind, speaking softly and wringing his hands. “I’m very sorry about this, sir. I wouldn’t want a bad report to reach King George’s ears…”

The Doctor sighed silently through his nose, thinking about how much he hated social class structures. “Don’t worry yourself. Just leave James here with me, and I’ll do everything I can to find out what happened here.”

“Very well, sir.” He bowed his head respectfully. “Goodnight.”

The Doctor ran a hand over his face as Mr. Davis walked off. He’d forgotten how stifling this century was.

“You want me to help you with the autopsy?” James asked after a long moment of silence.

The Doctor came back to the present and glanced at his face. “Yes. Problem?”

James frowned, casting a quick look back where the woman’s body had lain, and met the Doctor’s eyes. “No, as long as we will only be occupied in the morning. I am needed at Meadowside tomorrow afternoon.”

“Mr. Townsley’s place? Why does he need you there?”

“He adds me to his staff sometimes to help prepare for the parties and balls he hosts.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes it is as simple as him asking my opinion on a certain decoration.”

The Doctor frowned. That sounded…mysterious. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few months.”

Strange, but a problem to focus on later. “I’m going to need you on top form in a few hours, which means you need to get some sleep.”

“I already told you, sir—”

The Doctor reached out and made a brief telepathic connection with James’ mind. He gave his consciousness a small nudge and then let go, letting his arm fall to his side.

James blinked rapidly and obviously bit back a yawn. “Forgive me, I seem to be very tired all of a sudden.”

“Really?” the Doctor asked, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm from his tone. “Off you go, then. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Without another word James walked down the hall slowly, like he was in a trance. The Doctor frowned after him. There were too many questions and too many things not adding up. He hoped that River was getting on well…


	3. Chapter 3

“Here, sit down. That’s it.” River guided the crying girl to a chair in her and the Doctor’s apartment. Though the girl’s tears had continued all the way up the stairs, River could see they were slowly subsiding.

River placed a comforting hand on the girl’s back. Once again, the loss of Amy and Rory came rushing into her memory. If anyone knew what it was like to lose someone, it was her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, my lady,” the girl said in broken sobs, “but I really shouldn’t be here…” She started to stand up but River put a firm hand on her shoulder and guided her back to the seat.

By the girl’s plain dress and speech, River had already deduced that she had been the dead woman’s maid. If she didn’t help console the girl, no one else would. “It doesn’t matter. Right now I care much more about you than propriety.” She fetched a handkerchief from nearby and offered it to the girl, who quickly dried her tears and sobbed a few more times into the drenched piece of cloth.

“That’s it,” River said gently as she saw that the girl was calming down. “Now first of all, tell me your name.”

Her eyes lowered, she sniffed. “Hannah, my lady.” She bunched the handkerchief in her fist, holding it against her cheek. 

“There’s no need for that. You can just call me ‘River.’”

Hannah frowned, her gaze briefly meeting River’s. “Please at least allow me to call you Lady River.”

River sighed, silently cursing this century and all its silly formalities. “Oh, all right.”

Hannah lowered her hands into her lap, kneading the handkerchief between her fingers. “Thank you for your kindness to me, Lady River.”

“You’re very welcome, though I have to admit my reasons are a little bit selfish.”

Hannah’s brow furrowed. She finally looked into River’s eyes, her expression asking a silent question.

“I’m…” River paused, considering how she could phrase this in terms of the time period. “My husband is a doctor and he wanted me to ask you some questions about the woman. In your own time, of course.”

Hannah nodded. “You’ve done so much for me, it’s only fitting that I should help you.” She straightened her back. “I believe I am mostly recovered now.”

“Good.” River sat on the sofa beside her. “First of all, who was she?”

“Lady Jane Weston, the Countess of Gresham. She lives—” Hannah’s expression fell. “— _lived_ near Brighton.”

River continued on before the tears could start again. “And why did the Countess come here?”

“For the ball, of course.”

 _The ball._ River was starting to suspect that maybe it was more than just a simple party. She raised an eyebrow, considering further. “All this way for a ball? Mr. Townsley doesn’t even have a title.”

“Well…” Hannah averted her gaze and sighed. “The Countess was always good to me, but she did like to…stir people up. I heard her saying that she had discovered something about Mr. Townsley. Knowing her, I have no doubt she meant to confront him about it at the ball, where there would have been the biggest audience.” She sighed, slumping her shoulders. “She was never afraid to speak plainly to people.”

Warning bells sounded in River’s mind. There was a motive for murder if she’d ever heard one. “Do you know what it was—about Mr. Townsley?”

Hannah shook her head. “No, my lady, but it was not something good.” A sob suddenly burst forth and she covered her mouth with the handkerchief again. “Forgive me,” she said after a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s difficult to believe all of this. I was in the Countess’ service for five years.”

“I understand.” River closed her eyes for a moment and saw Amy’s last look at the Doctor. “I’ve lost people too.”

Just then the Doctor burst into the room. Hannah jumped, her eyes wide with fear as she watched the Doctor enter in a hurry. River stood to her feet.

“Humans,” the Doctor complained as tromped into the room. “Always have to wait for daylight. I could perform a perfectly good autopsy right now in the middle of the night with my eyes closed.”

River cleared her throat and nodded at Hannah.

“Oh, good. Did you find anything out about the dead woman?”

It was all River could do not to smack her face into her palm. “Her name is Hannah,” she informed him, giving him a hard look. “She’s been through quite a lot, but she answered my questions anyway without hesitation. A ‘thank you’ would be just fine.”

The Doctor let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He crouched in front of Hannah, his expression softening. “Yes, thank you, Hannah. I’m sure you’ve been very helpful.” He glanced at River briefly, as if trying to ensure he was saying the right thing. River nodded back at him in encouragement.

“You should go get some rest,” he continued. “This hasn’t been an easy night.”

Hannah nodded and stood up. She offered the handkerchief back, but River shook her head.

“Please keep it,” she insisted. “And if you’re feeling up to it, I might need your help tomorrow.”

Her eyes brightened a little. “Very well, Lady River. I will be here in the morning with some tea. And thank you, once again.” She curtseyed to the Doctor and then to River before turning and walking out the door.

“How are you on Regency era dances?”

River blinked at the Doctor’s sudden question. “Sorry?”

His eyes were insistent. “Regency era dances. Can you keep up?”

River blew a puff of air from her cheeks. “I’m fairly rusty, but I could keep up in a ballroom.”

The Doctor held out an arm and gestured for her to come closer. River frowned as she approached him. She was all for dancing, but it seemed out of place at the moment. “I thought we were talking about the mystery on our hands.”

“We are.” He met her halfway and stood directly across from her. “It’s a good thing dancing doesn’t require our mouths.”

“Hm.” River arched an eyebrow. “You obviously don’t know the way I like to dance.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored the comment. “Rule number one: we can only touch each other’s hands. That’s it.”

River found that his more serious attitude was only enhancing her determination to lighten the mood. And with the way he was standing there with a frown—his hair still ruffled from when she had run her fingers through it earlier—she couldn’t help but notice, for the millionth time, how insanely attractive this Doctor was.

She crossed the space between them in a single step and placed her hand on the Doctor’s chest, curling her fingers into his collar. “I’ve never been one for rules.”

“River, this is serious.” The Doctor pushed her hand away. “Someone has died.”

River huffed, her playful spirit deflating. “I know, and we’re still not talking about it.”

“Fine. What did you find out?” He clasped his hands behind his back and nodded at River to do the same.

“She was the Countess of Gresham.” River copied the Doctor’s quick dance steps with ease. “And I think I know why she was murdered.”

“Ah. So you do think it was murder.” He swept past her in the dance.

“Yes; apparently she knew some secret about Mr. Townsley. She was planning on unveiling it at the ball.”

The Doctor hummed and suddenly paused directly in front of her, forcing River to stumble into him as she continued the dance. “Everything leads back to Townsley,” he murmured, reaching out to steady River like an afterthought.

River stepped away from his touch. “Why do we even need to do this?”

He met her eyes. “We need to blend in. We need Townsley to think we’re perfectly ordinary people when we’re at the ball.” He shrugged. “And I have nothing to do until the autopsy.”

River decided to give it one last try. “You know, we _were_ in the middle of something when we got caught up in all of this.” She edged closer to him again, but she could tell he was working really hard to act oblivious.

The Doctor cleared his throat. “Let’s try the dance again. I’ll hum the music.”

River shook her head and finally gave in.


	4. Chapter 4

Early the next morning, the Doctor received a note from Mr. Brommel stating that the body was waiting at the local surgeon’s office. He then found James already awake and dressed and confirmed that James knew where the office was. A minute later, the Doctor found himself walking next to James through the deserted streets of Bath just as the rays of dawn crept over the horizon. The Doctor clasped his hands behind his back and simply enjoyed the blissful peace of the city still asleep.

“Forgive me if this is an impertinent question, sir, but why haven’t we taken a carriage? We would get to Dr. Reynolds’ office much faster.”

“This is good exercise. Besides, it’s a beautiful morning.” And it truly was. The air came with a chill, but it wasn’t cold enough to be uncomfortable; at least for the Doctor, anyway. A fog hung over the streets, creating a mysterious atmosphere.

After several more minutes of silence, the Doctor asked, “So, James, did you have any nightmares last night?”

He looked at the Doctor sharply, no doubt wondering how he knew. “None. I slept better than I have in a long time.”

“Good.” The Doctor paused. “After we finish up with the autopsy I’m going to go with you to Meadowside. I want to get a view of the place before the ball.”

James stiffened. “But—not to be uncivil, sir, but you haven’t been invited.”

“That’s usually the case, but I invite myself to all sorts of things and people usually don’t mind. Well, I say usually…” He trailed off, dwelling on memories for a moment. “Anyway, you won’t even know I’m there. I just need to check a few things.”

James frowned at the ground. The Doctor knew that this time was pivotal; depending on how James reacted to everything that happened today, he would either be solidified as an ally or turned into an enemy. And the Doctor furiously hoped it would be the former.

His hope was bolstered as James’ expression softened and he nodded. “If you insist, sir.”

The Doctor shot him a look and James offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry—”

The Doctor could tell he only just stopped himself from adding “sir.” A look of curiosity suddenly shone in James’ expression. His eyes roamed over the Doctor’s figure as if looking for something.

“Don’t you need tools for an autopsy?”

The Doctor patted his breast pocket where his sonic screwdriver lay. “Just one for me.”

James blinked, but a smile twitched at his lips. “I can never tell when you’re serious, sir.”

“Usually, never.”

Finally, after quite a bit of a walk, James stopped outside of Dr. Reynolds’ office. “The note said Dr. Reynolds’ secretary would be inside.”

“Let’s hope Mr. Brommel anticipated that I’d come this early.” The Doctor knocked on the door. Only a moment later a servant opened it, allowing the Doctor and James into a rather cramped office. A tiny man with a large mustache immediately stood up from behind a desk and inclined his head.

“You must be Dr. Smith.”

“Yes, and this is James, my assistant.”

The man’s mustache twitched as his gaze narrowed, not even acknowledging James’ presence. “I am Mr. Turner. I will take you back to the boy; it’s in the operating theatre.”

The Doctor bristled once again at silly social class systems, but he let it slide off his back. He had to be able to focus.

Mr. Turner led them back into what could barely be classified as an operating theatre and lit a few candles to shed some light. The Doctor winced at the sight of all the diagrams and tools that would be outdated in mere years. It was a wonder anyone survived surgery in this era.

A body lay covered by a sheet on the operating table. Mr. Turner stepped forward as if to remove the sheet, but the Doctor held out a hand. “We can take it from here.”

The secretary’s jaw tightened and he clenched his teeth. With a disdainful look at the Doctor, he breathed out a harsh sigh through his nose. “Very well, sir.” He turned on his heel immediately and exited the room, leaving them with barely enough light to see by as he closed the door.

“Should I light some more candles?” James asked.

“No, but you can bring one over here by the body. This should be very simple.”

James grabbed a candle and came to stand next to the Doctor. The flame illuminated the covered body. James visibly shuddered.

“Are you all right?” the Doctor asked, remembering how he had reacted to the dead woman the night before.

James swallowed. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“I only need to uncover her head.” The Doctor reached out and carefully pulled back the sheet to reveal the dead woman’s pale face. He put his hands on either side of her head and fully delved into her deceased mind to see if there was anything left.

Emptiness. Nothingness. Not even a trace of what he had felt last night.

He pulled away in frustration. “That’s what happens when you’re forced to wait,” he muttered. But had that psychic trace he had felt actually killed her?

The Doctor produced his sonic screwdriver. This time, now that there weren’t droves of people around to ask questions, he could bring it into the open. He scanned the dead woman’s body, the screwdriver emitting its familiar hum.

“What is that?”

“A very special doctor’s tool,” he replied absentmindedly as he examined the readings.

“It looks like…magic.”

“Not magic. Science.” He frowned as he took it all in. _Not good._

“Sir?”

“She died of heart failure.”

James stared wide-eyed at the sonic. “You can tell just from waving that thing over her?”

The Doctor nodded. James turned his gaze onto the Doctor and frowned. “You don’t look satisfied.”

“I’m not.” The Doctor did his best to convey the seriousness of the situation in his expression. “The heart failure was caused by someone else.”

James’ mouth dropped open. “How—how can you tell that?”

“I felt a psychic trace in her mind last night. I wasn’t sure if it was dangerous or not, but this tells me it was,” he said, waving the sonic screwdriver in the air.

“A psychic trace, sir?” James’ eyebrows mashed together as if trying to make sense of it all.

The Doctor slipped his sonic screwdriver back in his pocket and nodded. “And not from someone nice, if they went so far as to commit murder.”

“Murder,” James whispered like he couldn’t believe it. He turned to the side and ran a hand through his hair. The Doctor heard his heart rate speeding up.

And for a moment, James’ unconcealed fear broke through the Doctor’s shell. He saw death every day. He had experienced it more times than he cared to admit. To him, a dead body was a normal circumstance. To James, who had lived his whole life thinking death was far off, this brush with death had to be a living nightmare.

A shuddering sob sucked the Doctor from his thoughts. James’ shoulders heaved as he cried into his hands, his whole body tense and shaking. The Doctor hesitated, wishing River were here. She’d know what to do.

“James…” he murmured, rubbing his neck absently. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this.” He pressed his lips together. What else was he supposed to say? “This is every day for me, but I didn’t think about how it might affect you.”

With one long sniff, James pulled himself together and turned to face the Doctor with watery eyes, though he kept his gaze downcast. “It’s all right, sir,” he said shakily. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Delayed shock.” He covered the woman’s face again and clapped James on the shoulder. “Now bring the candle over here so I can write up a report…”

The Doctor used the available writing tools to scribble down his report from the autopsy. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was as close to the truth as humans needed. Once he finished he beckoned James out of the room and went back into the office. Mr. Turner gawked at them.

“You can’t possibly be done yet!” he exclaimed.

“I am,” said the Doctor, “and no one else is to touch that body until it is carried into a coffin, do you understand?” He knew that someone would probably figure out that he had never cut into the body, but he wanted to avoid that awkward conversation if he could. “She was murdered with a deadly poison.” He handed Mr. Turner the report. “Anyone who touches her body could be contaminated. Who knows, I might even keel over and die tomorrow.”

Mr. Turner looked at the parchment in his hands and quickly let it drop with a rather undignified yelp. The Doctor barely hid a smile. “No need to call the constables,” he continued, “I’ll have it all taken care of by the end of the night.” Without waiting for a reply, he gestured to James and they both exited the office.

“I hope,” the Doctor added to himself.

“Why did you lie about the cause of death?” James asked, all traces of tears gone from his face.

“Humans in this era won’t understand psychic suggestion as the cause of death.”

“But you told me.”

The Doctor flashed him a smile. “You’re different; not like the rest of these pudding brains.”

James hung his head. “You saw me. No man in his right mind would cry at the sight of a dead body.”

“You’re only a boy, James. There’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s nothing wrong with compassion, either.”

James’ expression softened. “Thank you, sir.”

The Doctor pointed a finger at him.

James smiled. “Thank you, _Doctor.”_

“Do you believe me then? About my ‘magic wand’ and psychic influence?”

“Yes.” James copied the Doctor’s pose and clasped his hands behind his back. “Do you know, I believe I do.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus, everyone! My interests kind of went elsewhere for a little while, as you can tell, and while I could point fingers at the people who are to blame for that (you know who you are), really I only have myself to blame in the end. Updates should be pretty regular again from here on out! Enjoy! :D

A light knock sounded on the apartment door. River looked up from the sofa, setting down her pen and her diary, and watched Hannah enter the room. She carried a tea tray in her arms and smiled as she met River’s eyes.

“Good morning, my lady. I hope it’s not too early, but I took the liberty of preparing you some tea.”

“That’s wonderful, thank you.” River stood and sat down at the table, noticing that Hannah was arranging places for two. “My husband is still down at the surgeon’s; would you like to use his cup instead?”

Hannah paused in the middle of pouring River’s tea. “I couldn’t, Lady River.”

“No one will know, and I’d like the company.” River met the girl’s eyes and tried to give her a reassuring look. How did the Doctor do that thing where people just instantly trusted him?

Finally Hannah smiled a little and sat across from her. However, as she looked over the spread her expression fell. “Lady Weston allowed me to have tea with her sometimes.”

River reached for her teacup swallowed a sip of a strong black brew. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Hannah took the pot and poured her own tea, frowning like she was thinking. “It’s settled in, I think. The shock is gone, but the sadness remains.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure it will ever go away.”

 _Loss._ Why did it always come back?

“You learn to live with it,” River said gently. “It will be hard, and there will always be an ache, but you can’t let it stop you from enjoying life.” She thought of how the Doctor had appeared out of nowhere when she had needed him the most. Sometimes—not often, but sometimes—the universe was kind.

“Thank you.” Hannah smiled, seeming to genuinely appreciate her words. She took a dainty sip of her tea. “And how are you this morning, Lady River?”

“Oh, I’m fine, though I do wish I wasn’t stuck here by myself.” She couldn’t help but feel a little bitter that the Doctor had insisted she stay while he brought James along with him. But it was a man’s world, and she’d been forced to admit that her presence by his side would have raised too many questions.

Hannah’s lips puckered for a moment and she picked up a small cake. “Does your husband travel a lot? Being a doctor for the King?” She nibbled on her cake and avoided River’s gaze, probably feeling the question was too brazen.

River could have laughed long and hard at the innocence of her query, but she restrained herself and only chuckled. “Yes, he does travel often.”

“That must be difficult for you, my lady, being left alone.”

 _Oh, you have no idea._ “Yes, but it’s a little different now. He’s…retired. He’s said it’s because he wanted to spend time with me, but sometimes I’m still not sure.” She recovered herself as soon as she said the words. Why had she let _that_ slip out?

She was stunned for a moment that she’d relate her emotions so freely, but after a brief reflection she realised that the feeling had been building up inside of her since the Doctor had told her _“twenty-four years_.” It was a feeling she couldn’t share with the Doctor, however, so she was left carrying it on her own. Because however many times he promised, however many times he showed her how much he loved her…she could never quite believe him. It was like there was an innate sense inside of her that _knew_ no one could possibly love her, at least not that much.

Hannah stared at River, completely engaged in her words, all pretence of eating abandoned. “Why ever not, my lady? He looks like he adores you.”

River hadn’t meant to look at her so sharply, but apparently her gaze was intense enough to make Hannah drop her eyes and nibble on her cake again. “Really?” River asked.

Hannah swallowed. “I like to observe people, my lady,” she said softly as if fearing a reproach. “I’ve met so many lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses and the like, but I’ve never seen any husband look at his wife like your husband looks at you.”

River blinked. Then it was her turn to look down at the table as she felt heat prickle her cheeks. Was it really that obvious? And if it was, why couldn’t she see it?

She pushed the thoughts aside. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t sit here and be useless while the Doctor was off trying to be clever. Now wasn’t the time to deeply consider the Doctor’s feelings. River straightened up and took another sip of her tea.

“I wanted to ask you about something you said last night. Do you remember anything else about the secret Lady Weston knew?”

Hannah shook her head. “Only that she figured it out from something her father told her.”

“Her father?”

“He’s a watchmaker here in Bath.” Her smile melted into a frown. “I imagine he will be quite distressed when he hears the news.”

River hardly heard the last part of her statement because her mind was already racing. She had a lead. She downed the rest of her tea and stood. “Hannah, how would you like to go into town with me to talk to Lady Weston’s father?”

Hannah politely dabbed her mouth with a napkin and then jumped to her feet though there was still a half-finished cake on her plate. “I have no other duties here anymore, Lady River. I will gladly do whatever you ask of me.”

“This isn’t an order, I’m asking if you want to go.”

Hannah grinned. She wasn’t startled this time, so it seemed she was getting used to the way River treated her. “Then yes!”

“Good. By the time you take the tea tray back downstairs, I’ll be ready to go.”

“But won’t you need help getting dressed?” She looked around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time. “Where’s your ladiesmaid?”

“It’s rather a long story, but I don’t need any help. I’ll just be a few minutes; I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Hannah gathered the tea things onto the tray and hefted it into her arms. She walked toward the door, but paused before reaching for the handle. “You are very odd, Lady River.” With the way she smiled, River took it as a compliment

She chuckled. “I know.”

* * *

Crowds of people traversed the streets of Bath at the height of the morning. Every shop seemed to be packed with people buying last minute odds and ends for the ball. Hannah weaved expertly through the throng as she led River in the right direction. They’d only been walking for about ten minutes or so when River saw a hanging sign that read “Trevor Bates, Watchmaker.” However, as they reached the shop, they found that the door was locked.

“I feared he might not be in,” Hannah admitted. “He must have already been informed about…” She paused, her voice growing quieter. “Lady Weston.”

“No harm in making sure.” River knocked on the door. “Mr. Bates? I have a very important question to ask you.” She pounded even harder. “Mr. Bates?”

No answer. Hannah sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I am sorry, Lady River.”

“Oh, I’m not giving up yet. Follow me.” Knowing there must be a back door to the shop, River doubled back the way they had come and found a deserted back alleyway.

“Where are we going?” Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Do you trust me?” River looked back and met Hannah’s eyes.

The girl stared back for a moment and determination quickly replaced her fear. “Yes.”

“Good.” River continued forward without answering Hannah’s question. There were several doors to choose from, as the shops were all crowded together, so she had to guess at which one was connected to the watchmaker’s. Hoping she was right, she pulled out her sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the doorknob. The lock clicked and River opened the door. She waited for a protest from Hannah, but none came. She paused and glanced over at her.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing?”

“I said that I trusted you, my lady. I would not simply take that trust away a moment later.”

River stared at her for a moment in shock, then smiled. “You’re quite extraordinary, Hannah.”

She grinned. “Thank you, Lady River.”

There were candles lit within the shop. The floorboards creaked as River slowly walked in, and only a few seconds passed before a white-haired, portly man strode toward them. He stopped short as he met River’s eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked, his expression contorting in anger. “How’d you get in?”

“Mr. Bates,” River said calmly, “we’re here about your daughter.”

“What good is that?” he practically shouted. “I already know she’s dead!”

River took a deep breath through her nose. She wanted to get angry, to get in a fight, but now wasn’t the time. Besides, he was grieving.

“Yes, and I’m very, very sorry, believe me. I’ve lost family too.” She watched as his expression slowly began to relax. She continued on while she had the advantage. “I think you may be able to help us find out what happened to her.”

His eyes widened. “They said they didn’t know the cause yet—you think she was…?”

“Yes,” River said, avoiding the ugly “m” word in case it would make him upset again. “Can you tell me if you’ve ever made anything for Mr. Townsley?”

His forehead crinkled and his eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t I be telling the constables this?”

“They sent me,” River lied smoothly. “They were caught up with something else, some sort of big fight happening in the streets. A little unconventional, but they needed every man they could spare.” River nearly laughed. As if she couldn’t stop a fight singlehandedly if there actually was one.

“Oh,” Mr. Bates said, seeming to believe her. His stance shifted and he cupped his chin in his hand, thinking. “I’ve made plenty of items for Mr. Townsley over the years. A few pocket watches, one big clock for his mantelpiece, and of course those tiny clock pieces I finished for him about a month ago.”

“Clock pieces?” River asked.

Mr. Bates shrugged. “He drew up a very specific design for me, said he needed one for every clock in his house. He refused to let me take a look at them, though, just said he needed the parts. Paid me handsomely, he did, so I didn’t complain.”

Now _that_ sounded odd. “Do you still have the drawing he gave you?”

“No, he asked to have it back, but I do still have one of the pieces that didn’t turn out. It’s the same as all the others except the size is a bit wrong.” He frowned. “Do you need to see it?”

River was nearly breathless. This _had_ to be something. “Yes, immediately.”

Mr. Bates seemed to hesitate, but then lumbered back further into his shop. He returned a moment later with a tiny metal piece no bigger than River’s pinky. He dropped it into her palm.

It wasn’t a clock piece.

It was the framework for a microchip.

River’s heart beat a little faster. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. Now she was getting somewhere.

“Was Lord Townsley’s ball announced after you finished this order for him?”

Mr. Bates frowned. “I suppose so, yes.”

River closed her hand around the metal. “Thank you, Mr. Bates, you’ve been very helpful. I’ll have to take this back to the constables as evidence.”

“Evidence?” His mouth opened a little. “But it was all very legitimate, nothing underhand—”

“Oh, I’m not implying that it was. I know you are an upstanding man, Mr. Bates, but this may be important. I’ll return it to you if I can.”

He seemed to want to protest but knew that he couldn’t do anything but agree. “Very well.”

“Good day to you,” River said quickly before promptly turning on her heel and walking out. She didn’t have time for social niceties anymore.

Hannah’s footsteps clacked against the ground as she caught up with River. “Lady River?” she asked, breathless. “What has happened?”

River looked again down at the microchip frame. She quickened her pace, hoping that it wasn’t too late. “This is no clock piece. Everyone going to that ball tonight is in danger.”


	6. Chapter 6

The carriage jostled violently on the road that led outside of Bath.

“These roads could use some repaving,” the Doctor muttered.

“Repaving?” James echoed. “It’s a dirt road, sir.”

The Doctor scoffed. “It doesn’t change the fact that no one should ever have to endure this.” To drive home his point, the carriage jolted and his hat was nearly smashed into the ceiling.

“I don’t even know how you convinced the coachman to let you on.” James smirked. “Can you always get people to do exactly what you say?”

“Usually. It’s a talent.”

After the surgeon’s, they had gone back to the apartment to find River absent. The Doctor was sure she was doing something useful. Though he knew she could easily take care of herself, a tiny sliver of worry had planted itself in his mind. Not long after, a carriage from Meadowside had arrived for James. The Doctor had used his psychic paper to convince the driver that he had been invited, too.

Now, as the city faded behind them, the land was filled with idyllic rolling green hills. Not too far in the distance he could already see the huge estate that he figured was Meadowside.

James sighed softly. The Doctor glanced over at him to see him staring out the window eagerly. He supposed that he didn’t have the chance to get out in the country much.

“So, what are your plans, James?”

James jumped and sat forward in his seat, frowning at the Doctor. “Plans, sir?”

“For the future.”

He shrugged. “I just want to stay in a good household. I’ve been hoping that Lord Townsley will take me on; he’s hinted as much a few times. It would be much more comfortable, I imagine.”

“Nothing else? No dreams?”

James pressed his lips together and looked down at his feet. “Nothing that’s not silly.”

“I don’t think dreams are ever silly.”

Though James kept his gaze downcast, his lips twitched into a small smile. “Sometimes…I like to imagine that I have a house in the country out here on one of these hills. Not even a big estate, just a small one.” He scratched the side of his head. “I said it was silly.”

The Doctor frowned. He hated this society, suppressing the dreams of a whole class of people simply because they hadn’t been born into the right family. What were humans if they couldn’t imagine, if they couldn’t pursue something with all their heart? He wanted to encourage the boy, but could he really do so when in reality he’d most likely die while still in service?

The thought made him wince and he looked away from James. That was the problem with getting attached: history was brutal to everyone, no matter how much you liked them.

But regardless, the Doctor vowed that he would try to do _something_.

The carriage pulled up to Meadowside soon after. As the Doctor stepped out of the carriage and onto gravel, he took a moment to examine the huge, white-washed behemoth of a house. It was pretty standard for the wealthy of the time period; not anything extremely impressive.

The butler showed them inside where a tall, thin, gangly sort of man was waiting for them. His passive expression quickly turned confused as he laid his eyes on the Doctor.

“Price? Who is this?”

James bowed low. “Mr. Townsley, this is the Doctor, sent from the King. I know he was not invited, but—”

“But I insisted on coming,” the Doctor cut in, not bothering to bow or introduce himself.

Mr. Townsley’s dark eyebrows furrowed over thunderous brown eyes.

“I know it’s a big day,” the Doctor continued, “but to make my report about Bath to the King, I need to see everything. And it seems that you, Mr. Townsley, are a big part of Bath.”

“Surely you have received an invitation to the ball,” Mr. Townsley said, his cheeks turning redder. It looked as if he was just barely containing his anger. “You may see it tonight.”

“Oh, but that’s no way to see an estate. All the people packed in—you can’t get a good look, can you?” He watched Mr. Townsley, wondering if he would explode.

But finally, the man let out a long sigh and seemed to calm down. “Very well, Doctor…?”

“Just Doctor will do.”

His frown etched deeper. A look of suspicion crept into his eyes. “Very well, Doctor. I am not one to refuse someone sent from my King, even if they were uninvited,” he said, the final phrase barely mumbled. “If you will follow me, I was just going to show Price the various rooms that have been outfitted for the ball.”

As Mr. Townsley led them past a grand staircase that led to another floor, the Doctor continued talking.

“I didn’t think James was going to be here tonight. Surely you have enough servants to manage.”

Mr. Townsley waited a moment before answering. “I value Price’s opinion. He is a sensible lad with a lot of promise.”

The Doctor hummed. It was just too _vague._

Mr. Townsley effectively gave them a tour of the house. The Doctor was bored by the second room and instead spent his time looking for anything strange. As far as the house, he didn’t notice any anachronisms. It was all the sort of dull, rich people stuff that anyone would expect from a man like Townsley. The Doctor nearly rolled his eyes when he started talking about his extensive clock collection. Did every annoying rich person have some kind of odd hoard of items? With at least three clocks in every room, incessant ticking seemed to follow them everywhere. The Doctor tuned it out to think.

As far as Townsley himself, he couldn’t quite figure the man out. For all intents and purposes, he simply seemed like a normal stuck-up aristocrat, but there was something… _something_ he was missing that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Besides, what did Townsley need James for?

He did ask James’ opinion a few times and had him speak to a few of his own servants, but the Doctor couldn’t find any fault with what happened.

Maybe he had been going about this all wrong. Maybe instead of focusing on Townsley, he should have been focusing on _James._ There had to be a reason why Townsley was so interested in him.

Was he special? A figure of historical significance? Did he have a special bloodline? Could Townsley secretly be his father?

His observations didn’t prove that final thought. He’d think there would be something more in the way Townsley behaved towards James, but then he didn’t do people as well as River did.

Finally, as Townsley finished up the tour, the Doctor asked about the thing he was most eager to see. “What’s this great monument you’re having put up, then?”

Townsley offered him a tight smile. “It will be unveiled tonight, Doctor, but I suppose I can offer you a brief glimpse.” He took them out into a courtyard, where a tarp covered a wide area. The Doctor noted something bulging against the tarp in the middle, about thirty feet high, though the huge tarp was so spread out that he couldn’t distinguish the shape. Could it be some kind of pillar? Transmitter? Something alien? A weapon? Or something worse, something related to the psychic trace he had found in Lady Weston?

Whatever it was, he got the sinking feeling that everyone attending the ball that night was in danger.

_So, timeline: go back to the apartment, get River, do some snooping to get more evidence, make a plan, stop the ball._

It was a pretty hefty to-do list.

For now, he was satisfied that Townsley didn’t see him as a threat, if indeed this _did_ all revolve around Townsley; he still had no clear evidence to tell him that, other than the slightly odd monument he was building and whatever Lady Weston apparently knew.

Townsley led them back around to the carriage, all smiles at that point as the Doctor had been too busy forming plans in his mind to talk.

“I look forward to seeing you at the ball tonight, Doctor,” he said, inclining his head. “And Price, thank you for your help, as always.”

James bowed. “Of course, sir.”

They got into the carriage and were on their way back to Bath. The Doctor remained deep in thought, mentally going back through his tour of Meadowside to see if there was something he’d missed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something odd about Townsley, something he should have noticed.

Just as they entered the city itself, the Doctor glanced over at James. He seemed to know Townsley very well; maybe there was something in his memory that would give him a clue. 

“James,” he said urgently, turning to face him. “Do you trust me?”

James shifted and blinked in surprise. “Yes, Doctor.”

“Then don’t move.” The Doctor placed his hands on either side of James’ head and began the search through the boy’s mind, only looking for memories of Townsley and blocking out everything else. Yet, before he could get too far, he came across a mental block. Sometimes humans had them, but usually only those who were aware that their minds were being read. This was quite different.

The Doctor touched the mental block with his mind, testing. James flinched both physically and mentally and the Doctor pulled away.

“Okay,” he said gently as James blinked slowly, his pupils changing size as they tried to focus on the Doctor’s face. Fear flooded into his eyes.

“What’s happening?”

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but for once, he wasn’t sure. Was James hiding something from him, or was his mental block due to outside influence?

“It’s going to be all right,” he said gently, hearing James’ breathing pick up. The carriage came to a halt and the Doctor saw the apartment building just outside. “Come on, let’s go inside and we can—”

The following words died on his lips. James suddenly clutched at his chest, his face white.

_Heart failure._

“No, no, no, no, no!” He bent over James and ran his sonic screwdriver over him, but all it did was confirm his suspicions.

The carriage door was wrenched open, revealing River’s intensely focused expression. She grabbed James and eased him down from the carriage with the help of the maid Hannah, holding the upper half of his body in her arms. The Doctor immediately jumped out afterwards, watching as River used her fingertips to probe over James’ head and behind his ears. James was still limp, his breaths coming out in gasps. People were gathering on the street with murmurs of concern.

“Got it!” River gave a swift tug like she had grabbed something and pulled her hand away from James. James took in a startled gulp of air, coughing as he started breathing too quickly. He leaned into River and she patted him on the back.

“You’re okay,” she said soothingly as James’s breathing slowly began to quieten. Over James’ shoulder, River met the Doctor’s gaze. She held out a tiny microchip in her palm, though it was difficult to see as its colour blended in with her skin. The Doctor grabbed it and held it up to his eyes.

“How did you know?” He felt a swell of pride—always so resourceful, his River.

“Long story.” She glanced at the people packed around them, onlookers eager for gossip. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

River and Hannah held up James between them as he walked unsteadily into the building. The Doctor couldn’t help but smile as he followed behind them. Women solving mysteries and saving lives in the Regency era—that would teach the world.

Once they’d made it inside, Hannah allowed the Doctor to help James in her place. “I’ll bring up some water,” she said, quickly hurrying away. The Doctor and River practically carried James up the stairs and into their apartment.

“You need a good lie down,” the Doctor said as they lowered him onto the sofa. “Doctor’s orders,” he said with a small smile.

James nodded and closed his eyes. The Doctor ran his sonic screwdriver over him. He’d had a shock, but he was going to be fine.

He tucked the screwdriver away and turned to face River, speaking in hushed tones. “What did you find out?”

“Townsley ordered hundreds of those microchip templates from a local watchmaker, the father of Lady Weston. He must have told her about the strange order and then she connected the dots and realised that Townsley isn’t what he claims to be.”

“That’s why Townsley killed her, through this,” the Doctor realised, holding up the chip. “He must have already put it on her somehow.” The Doctor shook his head. He’d been so concerned with psychic influence that he hadn’t had a thorough look at the body. Stupid Doctor…

“She must not have even known she was under his control.”

“Nor James.”

On cue, James moaned painfully. He seemed like he was trying to say something, but the Doctor couldn’t quite make it out. He crept over to James’ side and knelt down. “James?”

Suddenly, James’ eyes opened wide and he grabbed the Doctor’s arm. “I did it, Doctor! I killed Lady Weston.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue dramatic music*


	7. Chapter 7

_Suddenly, James’ eyes opened wide and he grabbed the Doctor’s arm. “I did it, Doctor! I killed Lady Weston.”_

* * *

River rushed to the Doctor’s side and looked into James’ panicked eyes. “What?”

He began breathing so rapidly he could hardly speak. “I didn’t want to, but then there was this voice in my head… I had to, there was nothing I could do and—” The words all came out in a rush until finally he broke down sobbing. River sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders, trying to process the information. _James,_ the murderer they’d been searching for?

Still crouching beside the sofa, the Doctor absently rolled the microchip between his thumb and forefinger as he frowned. River stared at the tiny object. If James had killed Lady Weston, how had James almost been killed in exactly the same way through the microchip? It didn’t make any sense.

“How did you kill her?” she asked James.

James’ face was hidden in his hands. His sobs paused just long enough for him to squeak, “What?”

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “River’s right. Tell us, James.”

“I— I—” He broke off, fidgeting wildly. “I don’t know!”

River rubbed her hand over his back, shushing him gently. “It’s all right, James. You didn’t kill her.”

James sniffed, his sobs subsiding. “How are you so sure?”

“You were being controlled by Mr. Townsley.”

“Those nightmares you had,” the Doctor interjected. “I suspect they weren’t nightmares at all, were they? Maybe you woke up in the middle of the street without knowing how you’d gotten there. Maybe you even stole something.”

Realisation dawned over River. “Tests to see how far he would go. And once Townsley drew Lady Weston here, he decided to give James the ultimate test: murdering her.”

“Except,” the Doctor said quickly, looking at James, “you overcame his telepathic suggestion because your moral instinct is so strong. You wouldn’t do it. It was heart failure that killed her, remember? You don’t have any psychic abilities that could have caused that.”

“Townsley killed her,” River finished, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Not you.”

James wiped his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice trembling.

The Doctor nodded. “Positive.”

James breathed out a long sigh, though his body still shook with sobs.

“I suspect that’s why Townsley wanted to see you,” the Doctor continued, musing. “He wanted to check what went wrong and see if he could fix it. I’m not sure if it was the result of that or my snooping in your mind that made him try to kill you. Sorry.”

James shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, sir.”

“Now,” River said, easing James back down onto the sofa, “you need to rest.”

Almost as soon as he was lying down, James closed his eyes. River stood to her feet carefully.

Suddenly, Hannah burst into the room carrying a pitcher in her hand. River locked gazes with her and put a finger to her lips. Hannah gulped in a quick breath and gave a curt nod, tiptoeing to the sofa and looking down at James in concern. “He’s certainly had a trying day, hasn’t he?” she whispered.

The Doctor nodded. “Too trying for a boy his age.” He glanced up at Hannah. “Do you know him?”

Hannah shook her head. “No, sir, but he was very kind to me when I arrived with Lady Weston. He helped me to carry the luggage.”

River smiled down at James. She had no doubt he had a good heart—both from what she’d seen of him and from the fact that the Doctor had chosen him as an ally.

Hannah set the pitcher down on the table. “I’ll leave this water here for when he wakes. Do you need anything else?”

“No, that’s all for now,” River said. “Thank you, Hannah. You can stay here with us if you’d like.”

Hannah smiled. “If it’s all the same to you, my lady, I’m going to help the other servants with their chores. I’d like to stay busy.”

“Of course. You can come up here any time you’d like.”

“Thank you, Lady River.” Hannah curtseyed, then left the room.

It was silent for a moment. So much had happened within the last few minutes that River found herself struggling to catch up with all of this new information.

The Doctor stood up, gazing at the microchip. “The ball is a trap,” he rumbled, breaking the silence.

“Of course it is. Everyone at that ball will somehow get one of those attached to their skull and become Townsley’s walking puppets.”

“But how?” The Doctor waved his hands, his fingers twitching like he needed something to hold onto. “Why?”

“You didn’t find out anything at Meadowside?”

“I didn’t want to make Townsley too suspicious.” He suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Now that we know what’s at stake, we have no choice. We need to stop him and prevent people from going to the ball.”

River considered for a moment. It seemed like a monumental task, but in this era, there was really only one way to get to a ball. “I suppose it wouldn’t be very hard; we could simply block the road.”

The Doctor snapped his fingers. “Good idea. Meanwhile, I’ll go to Meadowside—”

 _“You’ll_ go to Meadowside?” River crossed her arms and fixed him with a look.

The Doctor met her gaze. “You don’t get to argue this time. I don’t know who Townsley is, but he’s ambitious. It seems like he’s been waiting here a long time to carry out his plan, which means he’s patient, too, and that’s always a dangerous combination.” His blue eyes grew colder like he was trying to impress upon her the seriousness of the matter. “And now that we’ve pulled this microchip off of James, Townsley will be expecting us to come after him. I think he already suspected me when I showed up unannounced earlier.”

River had already deduced all of this, and yet it didn’t deter her. This wasn’t the first time they’d gone up against intelligent villains. “What are you saying? That it’s impossible?”

“Of course not. I’m saying that it’ll be dangerous. Too dangerous.”

 _“‘Too dangerous?’”_ River couldn’t help the irritation that crept into her voice. “Doctor, do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Yes, my _wife.”_

All at once, the tension in the air completely dissolved. This was the crashing spaceship all over again. River still couldn’t quite believe that the pain in his eyes was fear of losing her.

The Doctor sighed, reaching out to touch her cheek, his voice softening. “River, I can’t risk anything happening to you. I have a feeling about Townsley, something I can’t explain. I know that he’s even more dangerous than we realise.”

His concern warmed her heart, but she still wasn’t about to let him win. “I _am_ your wife,” she said, holding his hand to her cheek. “In sickness and in health? ’Til death us do part? Ring any bells?”

A smile twitched at the Doctor’s lips. “Our marriage wasn’t exactly conventional.”

“We aren’t exactly conventional people,” she shot back, stepping forward so she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes. “I’m staying with you. I don’t care if it’s too dangerous; it’ll be _less_ dangerous if I’m there to watch your back.”

The Doctor lightly traced his thumb over her cheekbone, staring at the point of contact. River tried not to let it distract her as she watched his face in an attempt to read what was going on in his brain. He had always been protective, yes, but never to this extent. Was it just this face, or was there something more to it?

“If Townsley really is as lethal as you think,” she continued, “you’ll need me there with you.” She brushed a hand along his arm. “I’m not letting you go alone. And know,” she added with a threatening note, “that if you try to pull a stunt with me like you did on the spaceship, I’ll kill you if Townsley doesn’t.”

Finally, the Doctor sighed, his hand falling away. “I might as well prevent another murder from happening.”

River chuckled. A smile twitched at the Doctor’s lips. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.

“In case anything goes wrong,” he murmured.

River couldn’t find any comfort in the hug. The Doctor had never been one for soppy “in case we don’t make it” goodbyes. Something about Townsley must have really gotten to him. “This isn’t like you.”

“It _wasn’t_ like me,” he corrected.

River pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. “Is there more you’re not telling me?”

He pursed his lips. “As I said, I can’t explain it. I just know that something’s… _wrong.”_

River wondered if he was simply avoiding the truth. Would he lie to her?

 _No._ Not this Doctor. Not now.

“Then it’s time to take down Townsley.”


End file.
